Read the fine print
by You talk like a dentist
Summary: The Woman had told her she would be able to feel again. She hadn't told her that she would be sending her to the world of Harry Potter in the body of an inbred bigot that housed with even more inbred bigots, in a time of war and dial-up internet.
1. Chapter 1

She moved with the slight rocking motion of the train. With every sway of it she could feel the weight of her thoughts grow, feel the pain and loneliness she hadn't allowed herself to feel for so long. It was crushing in its entirety and she felt exhausted, mind , body and soul.

 _("Is there anyone I should call?", the police officer asked, pointing his pen to the ice pack she cradled to her jaw. A mugging she'd taken care off easily but not without a little injury. It was just a little bruise though and would heal in no time._

 _But the answer to the officer's question,_ _ **that**_ _struck her like an anvil._

 _"There's…There's no one to call."_

 _Dead, missing or just plain absentee. That was the state of her friends and family. She was all alone in the big wide world)_

Felicity closed her eyes and leaned back against the glass of the window and sighed. In an attempt to keep from losing herself to the grief she looked around, people-watching in the gentle sway of the train There was a young man just a few seats away hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His jaw clenched and she noticed the slight bruise on it. Absent-mindedly she wondered if the hands he had stowed away were split from the brawl he had clearly taken part in. He shifted just a bit and she saw the top of a certain infamous tattoo climbing up over the collar of his shirt. A gang member, she realised, and looked away. Another time and she might have been afraid and cautious. Now she was just numb.

To the other side there was the balding middle-aged man who had fallen asleep head drooping forwards constantly, only to wake with a start to sit back before the pattern repeated itself. She saw the trail of drool running down the side of his mouth and a twitch of amusement ran through her.

There was a tottering old woman holding on to the hand of a toddler tightly a few seats away. The old woman had a pinched look to her face while the toddler seemed content to swing her legs back and forth happily. She wondered if perhaps the grip the old woman had on the child's hand was a bit too tight.

And then there was the woman in front of her. Clearly a school teacher considering the chalk dust on the sleeves, all neat and tidy and yet somehow exhausted. Felicity hadn't realised up until she looked at her how much she'd been trying not to look in her direction.

And once she _did_ look, she was entranced. But she couldn't really say why.

Admittedly it wasn't a particularly pretty face. Not symmetrical in any way, no upturned nose to charm and dazzle, no flowing locks to distract. Instead her hair was pulled back severely making her forehead looking alarmingly large, eyes that were disproportionately big stared at her through plastic spectacle frames down a hawkish nose while her mouth scrunched up in an expression of dislike.

And yet there was something about her, she just seemed so interesting that you wanted to look at her again, _if_ she permitted it, that is. The slight upturn of the mouth had Felicity drawing in a breath and leaning back, for some reason breathing hard. Adrenaline rushed through her for reasons he did not understand and her heart pounded as she stared into dark eyes that glittered. The woman reached out her hand and Felicity followed the movement with her eyes.

"Apple?" Said a deep smooth voice that seemed to echo and she was ensnared by the glossy red skin of the fruit. The more she looked at it the brighter it became, more vivid and red, dark yet somehow illuminated from within. When Felicity finally took her eyes off the fruit she jolted back into her seat with a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you alright?" Asked the young gang member, concern lit on his face but Felicity couldn't see it. She was almost blinded by the glow he gave out.

"I-I'm," She stuttered then struggled for words. "I'm alright, just a bit..."

"Tired?" He guessed incorrectly and the light he gave out shined even brighter.

"Yeah." She whispered and looked around the train.

The middle aged man who drooled in his sleep did not glow quite like the young man but there was an unmistakable air of mischief around him now. An imp intent on causing mayhem.

The toddler's eyes burned through her, scorching her very soul, dark and malevolent in a way that Felicity did not believe possible and her grandmother, the old woman shook in terror.

Her eyes swept over the woman who'd offered her the apple but found she could not look at her directly. She shone like a star, too bright up close and it would make her blind to look at her. From the corner of her eyes though, she saw her.

She wore a gown spun of moonlight and a crown woven of silvery spider silk. The eyes that had glittered now seemed to shift hue with every second, like every hue in the spectrum and then some were all etched into her iris.

" _I take it you don't like apples."_ The voice that said those words had Felicity awash in warmth. If ever a voice could sound like home, this was it. This was her mother laying a cool hand on her forehead when she suffered a fever, this was her father coming home late but not forgetting to tuck her into bed before he trudged tiredly into bed, this was Saturday morning cartoons with sugary cereal, the swing in her backyard, the fairy tales on her shelf all woven into a voice. This was everything she had only just realised she would _never_ have again

And it was _terrifying_

"N-no," was all she could say.

She could accuse the woman of putting her under a spell now could she? Accuse her of hypnotizing her with a ruby red apple? There's a one way ticket to the looney bin.

" _An apple a day-"_ The woman said, her mesmerising voice trailing off into a smirk. The ruby red of the fruit still called out to her and Felicity _wanted_ with a ferocity she thought she would never feel again.

"I don't think _that's_ going to keep anyone away." Felicity still stared at it. It was calling out to her, something about it compelling and enchanting. Something magical although Felicity had never believed in that word before today.

The hands holding the fruit turned it and in its shiny skin Felicity saw her reflection distort and pull. Her hand reached out of its own accord and soon she held it in her palms, cradling the fruit as if it were something holy.

Forbidden fruit. Temptation. Sin. Immortality. Knowledge.

All the meanings of it rushed through her mind.

"What will it do?" Because it was sure to do something. If just looking at it had her seeing things, a bite was sure to do worse.

" _Make you feel again."_

Tempting, so very tempting. Especially now when she felt so numb but everything had a price.

"What will it take in return?"

" _Does it matter?"_ Finally Felicity looked at her and found the brightness had dimmed. She was still beautiful, bewitching but it no longer hurt like she was looking at the sun. She was staring at Felicity intently and she smiled, an impish little grin that was more than a little terrifying. " _What do you have to lose?"_

Nothing.

Against every self preservative instinct, every cautious sentiment ingrained in her, Felicity took a bite.

No harm ever came from eating a fruit, right?

The world spun around her, lurching and twisting this way and that. A spell of dizziness hit her as the neon bright lights of the train flashed all the colours in the world. The apple rolled out of her hand and to the floor where She picked it up.

Was she getting smaller or was the world getting bigger, Felicity wondered as the Woman loomed over her head. Her hand drew closer and closer until it was all Felicity could see and when it touched her skin her body felt like it was alight but with the kind of fire that did not burn.

And then it all went black.

* * *

Her eyes opened and shut just as quick, blinded by all the white brightness in the room. A hospital then. Somehow this wasn't what she expected when the Woman (was She one though? Didn't seem very human) said the apple would make her _feel_.

But then she didn't really expect anything, really. Nothing tangible. Just some vague promise of not numbness.

She sat up and looked around the room carefully. It didn't look like any hospital room she'd ever seen. The archaic stone structure, the ridiculously high ceilings, it wasn't quite the clinical clean that she was used to, the smell of antiseptic wasn't even there although there was an herbal tinge to the air. Sunlight streaming in through the type of windows that were usually seen in churches was what blinded her, not the neon lights of a hospital.

Where was she?

A screen separated her from the rest of the room. It was a thin flimsy type of thing and she could see the silhouette of a woman through it. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed only to yelp as the motion jarred her head.

"Miss Ivoire, whatever are you doing getting out of bed like that, you need to rest!" The woman on the other side of the screen came to her, helping her back onto the bed. "Your brother has been worried sick ever since you took that tumble."

She was dressed oddly, in the kind of nurse's uniform that Florence Nightingale might have worn. The skirt wasn't quite as voluminous but the rest of it was incredibly archaic and yet fitting considering the decor of the place.

But why was she calling her Miss Ivoire?

"-Your brother's been beside himself and the young Ms Bulstrode has already written to your parents."

"Brother? Parents?" Her parents were dead, her brother hadn't been heard from in years and who the hell was this Bulstrode? "What are you talking about Miss-?"

The woman stared at her without blinking for what felt like ages. "Madam Pomfrey, dear. I'm the matron at Hogwarts."

Hogwarts? Wasn't that the magical school from those books? She'd never read them, preferred murder mysteries but everyone had heard about Hogwarts and Harry Potter and all that. And here this woman was claiming she was in that magical school.

"You're fucking with me." She declared, unable to accept it.

Madam Pomfrey puffed up, red and angry, "Miss Ivoire, you will control your language!"

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

Madam Pomfrey faltered. "Because you're Lyra Ivoire." She said hesitantly. "I think we need the mind healers."

With that Madam Pomfrey went to the fireplace and threw some black powder in it and disappeared into the bright green flames that had sparked up with the powder leaving her all alone in the big empty wing.

Well, almost all alone.

" _That was a bit of an overreaction."_ A voice said and she turned to find the Woman sitting in the formerly empty chair beside the bed in all her sparkly glory.

"You! What kind of hallucinogen was in that apple?"

The Woman ticked up her eyebrow. " _Not much of a believer are you? They never are"_ , she tsked.

"What are you talking about?"

" _It's not a hallucination. Frankly my dear you give your imagination too much credit."_

She blinked rapidly.

Not a hallucination. Real.

Hogwarts. Real.

Magic. Real.

Magical world that she knew nothing about because she never read the books. Real.

"I was giving credit to the hallucinogens, actually," She remarked feebly. Her hand went to her arm and she pinched hard. It hurt. Or did she just think it hurt?

She splayed out her hands in front of her instead. Ignoring the pain as she lowered her gaze she began counting.

1, 2, 3 ,4 , 5, 6, 7, 8, ,9, 10.

" _Convinced yet?"_ the tinkling voice of the Woman sounded, amused. " _Welcome to Hogwarts in 1996."_

In a fantasy world, twenty years in the past, in the body of someone else. Wonderful.

Somewhere out there, someone was having a huge, great at the joke her life was.


	2. Chapter 2

The Slytherin table was abuzz with chatter. The Honourable Lyra Ivoire had slipped and hit her head while walking to the castle and had to be taken to the hospital wing immediately. The upper years were taking bets at what would happen and whether she would live. The younger ones looked distinctly green, apparently remembering the pool of blood that had spread out around the girl's body.

At the centre of it all, holding court was one Draco Malfoy. And he was not interested at all.

Lyra Ivoire was the least pretty one of the Ivoire bunch. The Ivoire family and its branches, including the Greengrass family, were said to produce the more aesthetically pleasing ones in the purebloods. The pug nose of the Parkinson, the horrid ears of the Crabbes all those undesirable traits were supposed to be bred out of them. Lyra was the ugly duckling, all sharp angles and bones and skin nothing like the lush curves that were favoured.

And even more important, she was just _dull_.

When Daphne and Astoria, her cousins, joked about how they wouldn't know she was a girl were it not for the thick heavy braid Lyra curled in on herself with a wan smile and barely contained tears. She was the easily bullied one, the tagalong.

The one that was usually forgotten. They might have gone through their graduation without knowing she was there, Merlin, she would probably emerge from the war unscathed because she was so easily forgotten.

But not anymore. News of her accident had spread like fiendfyre and her return was awaited by them all. Bets needed to be settled, money was to exchange hands and most importantly, the ranks were to be seen to. Because if she died, then Daphne's dowry was to increase exponentially and she would become even more desirous a bride.

And even worse, since his father's incarceration Draco had lost his standing as had most of the house. The Court was in chaos, a vacuum of power that left Zabini and Greengrass as the emerging political powers. It was only the fact that the Dark Lord resided in Malfoy manor that hadn't left him politically destitute and even that came with its own disadvantages. Already Draco and his mother's lives depended on the outcome of his mission and knowing that she was all alone in that house without his father and stuck with Bellatrix sent shivers down Draco's spine.

'He had enough to worry about', he thought, his eyes flickering to where Dumbledore was sitting at the staff table, 'Without thinking about house politics.'

And if Lyra died, the Greengrass girls would have a lot more power and money at their disposal. Marriage contracts that held the lone Ivoire girl as the primary holder would be passed on to Daphne, as would the connections that came with it. It would be harder than ever for Draco to find supporters if they had a powerful neutral family like Greengrass to rally around.

So the question remained, did Lyra live or did she die?

* * *

Severus strode into the hospital wing as quick as he could. He didn't care much for the Ivoire girl but she was one of his snakes. Things were going to be hard enough for them without this drama and he wanted to sort this out as quickly as possible.

Poppy wasn't there, which surprised him. She never left a student on their own unless she was at least in the office. The wards wouldn't notify her otherwise and it was unusual for him to not see her or her silhouette in the glass of the office. The faint smell of smoke caught his attention and he noticed the fireplace had been recently used for Floo and his worry grew. For Poppy to go to St Mungo's, it must have been serious indeed.

It surprised him, though perhaps it shouldn't have. They had spelled multiple doses of blood replenishing potions straight into her stomach before setting to work on her wounds. However, they did say that head injuries bled like a stuck pig and he had assumed it wasn't as serious as that.

The sound of hurried talking had him moving towards the screen in the middle behind which Ms Ivoire was supposed to be. Within a second he found himself staring at his student who looked at him with annoyance, but why was she annoyed?

"Ms Ivoire-"

"Who are _you_?" She snapped at him with a frown and Severus floundered. No student had ever dared to talk to him like that, certainly not unless they were Gryffindors and to hear it from Ivoire, who could barely get through a sentence without stuttering was beyond strange.

And why would she be asking him who he was, he was the head of her house for the past five years she couldn't possibly not know who he was unless...

"You've lost your memory."

She snorted but held her tongue so Severus held his. She would learn soon enough that such impertinence wasn't tolerated in Slytherin; the rest would make sure of it.

"I'm Severus Snape," He watched her face carefully and caught a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Head of the House of Slytherin."

"Right, potions." She said softly and he corrected her immediately.

"DADA this year." The words flushed him with the cocktail of emotions it usually did, pride that finally he had gotten what he wanted but not in the way he wanted it at all, dismay that he'd been given the worst task ever and anger that the curse would make sure to claim him by the end of the year anyway.

"DADA?"

"Defence against the Dark Arts." He couldn't help the sneer, what was deemed to be Dark by the Ministry practically included bunnies and rainbows. They knew nothing of what the Dark Arts truly were.

"Right, well the nurse woman, she said I have a brother."

"Young Nathaniel, he's only just been sorted. Ravenclaw, I believe." The boy held promise, Severus couldn't understand what turn of events had placed such a bright child in Ravenclaw while they someone as non-enterprising as Lyra.

"Ravenclaw, right." She looked off into the distance thoughtfully before snapping back to him, "Could you tell me about the houses?"

Severus parroted the mottos of the houses, making certain to sneer at all but Slytherin but she didn't react quite as she was supposed to.

"What a terrible system. Instead of helping students become well-rounded in character it forces them to adhere to archetypes to fit in."

Severus was taken aback. It was a surprisingly uncommon point of view for her to voice, it had been the muggle parents that Minerva had to visit that had commented along those lines, not any Pureblood scion.

"But my brother, this Nathaniel, he's been informed that I'm awake? And my parents?" Her face darkened at that, "Assuming I have them?"

"The Lord and Lady Ivoire are yet alive." He confirmed. Although they might not be so for long if the Dark Lord had any plans for them. "I believe they shall be informed once the healers have a more definite prognosis for them to be informed of."

She frowned and Severus found himself bracing for another surprise. This was turning out to be one of the stranger conversations he had had with his Slytherins. "Am I not a minor then? It doesn't make sense for me to receive medical attention without the permission of a guardian."

"While in school the head of house acts as loco parentis."

Her eyes snapped up at him then and he found himself the subject of intense scrutiny. IT was odd to be at the receiving end of such a stare, he was renown enough in the Wizarding world that most people had already formed opinions of him.

"Interesting." She pronounced and he was saved response by Poppy and a team of healers tumbling out of the floo.

But 'interesting' was a word that applied to her more than it did him. Severus watched as the previously painfully shy Lyra manoeuvred the healers expertly, only allowing them access to her person once they swore an oath to make multiple copies of their assessment made and sent to her, her parents and sealed at St Mungo's. Their suggestions for experimental potions and spells were turned firmly down and threats so subtle were insinuated, that only the few Slytherins in the room even understood them. She cajoled, intimidated and manipulated them to release her from the hospital wing with the sorry excuse of a compromise to check in with Poppy once a week and before Severus knew it, he was making plans to have her reintroduced to everything.

It was hours later in exhaustion that he allowed himself to comprehend the fact that this year was going to be very different for is Slytherins. And with the state of things as they were, there might even be spill out to the rest of the school as they sat atop a volatile cocktail of suspicion, anger and outright hostility.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she sank into place between Harry and Ron. The boys were in so heated a debate about Quidditch that they hadn't even asked her why McGonagall had called her away. It would be a while before they did realise something was amiss, her boys had a tunnel vision when it came to the sport especially now with everyone else forcing themselves to talk about it as well, intent on ignoring the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. War loomed on the horizon and with the new task given to her Hermione might end up helping her enemies.

Not all Slytherins were evil. But cunning and ambitious meant an agenda of their own and Hermione hated all that political noise and was wary of Slytherins nonetheless.

Still, it was bound to be interesting tutoring Lyra Ivoire. They said she remembered nothing, no spells, potions, or anything and Hermione was the only sixth year who was far ahead enough in her studies to have the free time for it. She flushed in her seat thinking with pride of how McGonagall had praised her and even Snape had reluctantly admitted that she was the only one qualified for the job.

And it gave her an excuse to ask around about Malfoy. The git was up to something she just knew it.

It was interesting though that she had retrograde amnesia. It seemed like such a muggle thing and Hermione wondered how it was even possible. Magic gave them such power that they could wipe out specific memories with an Obliviate, how could they not restore her memories then especially when it was something as un-magical as a fall that had caused it?

"You alright, Mione?" Harry asked and she smiled quickly. "What did McGonagall want?"

"Professor McGonagall, Harry." Hermione couldn't help the roll of her eyes, "I'll tell you later in the common room."

He frowned but let it go. Hermione could already imagine how it would go, Ron would holler and complain about slimy Slytherins, Harry would calm him down, brood, and be suspicious and they'd both tell her to be careful.

She couldn't help the grin taking over her face. It was good to be backing home.


	3. Chapter 3

The head injury isn't really hers, it was the original Lyra who'd slipped and hurt herself, but Lyra 2.0 was the one who was dealing with the pain. She'd managed to keep those 'mind healers' from probing her mind but that didn't change the fact that her head hurt like a bitch and she spent a considerable amount of time napping.

She woke from one such nap to find a little person peeking in from behind the screen set up. Well, littl _er_ person, she reminded herself. Seeing as how she was in the body of a 16 year old (and that had taken some getting used to, puberty all over again?!) she was a little person as well.

"Hey kid." She called out and the boy shuffled in cautiously. "I'm going to go on a limb and assume you're Nathaniel, my little brother?"

He nodded and walked in full sight of her, cautious in a way that made her think that Lyra 1.0 was not a nice sister.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, stiff as if he wasn't used to it but the concern was real.

"Could be worse. Could also be better but complaining won't change anything." She shrugged and it must have been weird for Lyra to behave like that because Nathaniel was staring at her with wide eyes. "So, how's your day been? First day of classes for you right?"

Madame Pomfrey had mentioned something along those lines.

"I'm in Ravenclaw." He blurted out quickly only to clamp his mouth shut tight as if he couldn't believe he'd said that.

"'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure', that's your house motto, right?"

"Yes I- I thought you'd be disappointed."

Her eyebrow rose high, "Why would I be disappointed?"

"I'm not in Slytherin. You said that-" He bit his lip and she guessed that Lyra 1.0 had said some hurtful things to the kid.

"Forget anything I said before, I don't remember it and frankly I don't want to. I don't sound like a very nice person really."

And she couldn't pretend to be that person either. She knew fuckall about Hogwarts as it was, only a couple of names and the fact that there were wands and shit involved there was no way for her to know what this Lyra was like, if she was even mentioned in the books.

Besides, the Woman had said she'd talk to her again, that she had some work for her to do and if Lyra 1.0 could have done them then there would have been no need for her to be here in her place.

"So, tell me about the fam, what are Mum and Dad like?"

Nathaniel jolted. Apparently something else she had done wrong. "You never call them Mum and Dad." He frowned.

"Then what do I call them?"

"Mother and Father."

"I'm guessing we're not a very close knit family?"

He flushed bright red. "No, not...not exactly." He shook the thought off. "Mother is Maia Ivoire nee de Verde and father is Lucian Ivoire, the head of the House of Ivoire, our patern-"

He was cut off by the sound of someone arriving with loud angry footsteps. They both turned as one to see the bushy haired chit all but stomp her way there all the while muttering under her breath very loudly about idiot boys and emotions and teaspoons. She stopped abruptly once she actually noticed them and turned a bright magenta but with a flare of her nostrils and a deep breath she stepped forward holding her hand out.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Nathaniel Ivoire." Her brother shook her hand and bent his neck just a bit.

Amusedly she followed his example. "Lyra Ivoire. Apparently."

Hermione Granger (sounded familiar, she was pretty sure that was one of the main characters. Or was that some dude called Herman? She wasn't sure) nodded and began taking multiple books out of her bag and Lyra and her brother stared as the pile on the little table at her side grew higher and higher.

"Do I want to know why you're suddenly taking books out of nowhere?"

Hermione stopped mid book slam and stared. "They didn't tell you?"

"Woman if they begin telling me all the things they think I need to know I'd be stuck here for years."

She flushed again and composed herself quickly. "You don't remember anything right?"

"Right."

"So they assigned me to be your tutor."

"In which subjects?"

"All of them."

Lyra's eyebrows flew up into her hairline. "That's a lot of work they're assigning you."

"Well I do have the highest marks in the entire class." Hermione said defiantly as if expecting Lyra to deny that.

"I'm sure you do but I'm also sure you want to keep that lead. Tossing a fu-" Lyra broke off and glanced at Nathaniel, "-dge load of work doesn't help." Hermione loosened up at that, shooting her an amused look while Nathaniel looked at her like he knew exactly what she was going to say.

Still, as a grown up she really didn't want to slip up around the kid.

"Besides I'll be catching up on five years worth of studies before even moving on to the current curriculum."

"Wait, five years?" Hermione's eyes grew comically wide and she looked like she was about to start hyperventilating at the thought of that and Nathaniel, the little darling interrupted quickly.

"We can learn the first year stuff together, you and I!" He exclaimed, eyes flitting between her and Hermione, "Maybe your house can help, Professor Flitwick says they're supposed to be like your family."

The harassed look slipped off Hermione's face and instead she snorted in laughter which was confirmed what Lyra had already guessed through her talks with Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape.

Lyra smiled wryly, "I get the feeling Slytherin is family the way Elizabeth and Mary of the Scots were family."

* * *

The House of Slytherin had been informed that Lyra Ivoire was alive and had lost all her memories. Retrograde amnesia they called it or as some in the dorm had taken to calling her, an obliviated idiot.

She should have been a blank slate upon which they could scribble their beliefs and ways. She should have been shy and tentative, cautious, or on the other hand trusting of anyone who would deign her worthy of the slightest scrap of attention.

In other words, no different than usual.

She was none of those.

The girl who strode in the Great Hall wasn't the meek girl they were used to. She didn't walk hunched down of herself like she used to, didn't keep her eyes on the floor and didn't just shuffle along like a little crab. She was walking quickly, long strides which had her robes billowing out behind her, trying to keep up with her and she was looking at everything in the hall with great interest. Severus could almost see the thoughts flying across her face as she flicked her eyes about observing categorising and wondered if her mind had always been that quick and if she'd just hidden herself that well.

If that was the case he would have to commend her for it. She had hidden in plain sight for a long five years.

"I'll be busy so any queries you have regarding your house should be directed to the prefects in your year, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson." Severus waved his hand at them and washed his hands of her, returning to his place at the head of the table. He feigned disinterest but played a close ear to what was happening those few seats away. Already he could see the growing trepidation on the Greengrass girls' faces as their cousin behaved so uncharacteristically.

"Teachers not having the time to teach, my what a lovely educational institution." She said sharply and Severus bit back a response in favour of observing. "Lyra Ivoire."

His godson smirked wanly, "We know, Draco Malfoy."

A volley of introductions followed, as per custom, in order of importance.

"Theodore Nott."

"Pansy Parkinson."

"Blaise Zabini."

"Vincent Crabbe."

The Crabbe boy's interruption was interesting. Apparently the Greengrass heir had fallen down the pole and she didn't like it at all judging by the twist in her mouth.

"Daphne Greengrass, your cousin."

"Gregory Goyle."

"Millicent Bulstrode."

"Tracey Davis."

"I'm never going to remember any of you, try being a bit more interesting." Lyra announced and it became obvious she had forgotten tradition and customs along with her memories. "Pass the brussel sprouts." She demanded imperiously of Nott and confused at the lack of decorum he handed them over but her cousin watched in confusion.

"But you hate brussel sprouts!"

Ivoire shrugged. "Change is the only constant in life, get used to it it's sort of fundamental and the brussel sprouts are the least of it all." She heaped the sprouts onto her plate before pointing loudly at the pasties piled in the main platter. "What is that?"

"Erm, a pumpkin pasty." Bulstrode answered and the amnesiac frowned.

"Pumpkin in pastry? What are we, American?" She scoffed.

And Severus wondered. She recognised brussel sprouts and America but not pumpkin pasties?

Something was off.


End file.
